


a lovestory to remember

by anonymous_mystery95



Category: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, and then fluff again, follows canon for the most part (tho there as some changes), one sided josie/toni
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-19 05:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14230821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_mystery95/pseuds/anonymous_mystery95
Summary: Sweet Pea doesn't expect anything from the Northsiders when he joins their school. He doesn't expect to like any of them, doesn't expect to befriend any of them. Doesn't expect to fall in love with any of them.But then there is Ethel, with promises on her tongues and smiles on her lips. And he isn't sure what to expect anymore.He thought that all she'd do was teach him the musical.





	a lovestory to remember

****He doesn’t want to be involved in the musical, not really. But Principal Weatherbee is breathing down his neck, Northsiders watching his every move, waiting for him to slip up. Waiting for an excuse so he can be expelled. And he hates them, hates their pompousness and arrogance with every fibre of his being, hates the fact there is an air of superiority surrounding them whenever he would walk into a class,

but more than that he hates the idea of them winning.

And so when Weatherbee approaches him, mentioning oh so casually that the musical needed more people for it to run, a light tone mixed with calculating eyes, he volunteers. Reluctant and hesitantly. But he does agree.

And it does mean a lot to Fangs, he reminds himself. So it can’t go wrong.

* * *

Sweet Pea quickly learns that no good deed goes unpunished.

And nothing could be more humiliating that walking into practice, everyone moving and singing with ease. He feels like he is drowning and there were no hands outstretched to save him, no one aware that he needs the help. And who could he call out to? Fangs was busy assisting Kevin, Toni making friends with the other girls. His lungs are filling with water and he can’t breathe, not in here. Not when he is so woefully inadequate and they were so close to discovering that themselves.

He storms out early, an easy lie passing through his lips. He isn’t sure if Fangs calls for him back, or Kevin. He isn’t sure anyone even heard his words.

And as he pushes open the doors of the auditorium where they were having rehearsals, his backpack and helmet left behind, he vows one thing.

He wouldn’t be coming back.

* * *

“I noticed you’re struggling with your lines.”

A voice talks to him through the darkness. Sweet Pea wasn’t expecting anyone to see him there, lying underneath the shade of the tree after practice concluded. And he certainly wasn’t expecting anyone to have the balls to approach him. But apparently one person does, a soft, feminine voice ringing out, the crunch of leaves underneath her shoes beside his ears. He cracks open one eye, searching for the person who decided to interrupt his solitude.

She’s a cute thing, he notes. It’s only a passing though, Sweet Pea scanning her, from the top of her curls, to the small smile playing on her lips, to the way she is wringing her fingers. She isn’t a threat to him, he thinks. Not physically.

He sits up, eyebrows pinching together, watching her through wary eyes. “Excuse me?” She starts fiddling with her fingers, dropping her knees beside him.

“I was in practice, I noticed that you were stumbling through your lines. And you weren’t really getting your moves.” His eyebrows shoot upward, Sweet Pea pursing his lips together. She won’t look at him in the eyes anymore, this new girl more focussed on the grass around them than his face. “I just wanted you to know if you wanted someone to help you with lines or songs or dance moves, I can. I know the musical already.”

A scoff leaves his mouth, harsh and loud and grating. All he hears is her showing off, reminding him of his own inadequacies. Like every Northsider before her. “Really? You’re coming to help me from the goodness of your heart?” The disbelief coats his voice, and she freezes, torn between anger and hurt. “Forget it, I’m only there to get Weatherbee off my case and I’m not here just so you can prove to your friends that you can talk to some dangerous  _Southsider_.” He sneers the words at her, eyes like glint as he glares. “It’s pathetic.”

“I didn’t mean -- I’m sorry.” Well crap, there are tears welling up in her eyes, the girl pushing herself to her feet. “I just wanted to help.”

She runs off after and Sweet Pea tells himself that is okay, that he wanted her to leave.

He lies back down in the grass, hands tucked behind his head as his eyes drift close, Sweet Pea determined to rest once more before having to go back to the Southside. Her teary face haunts him every time he tries to sleep.

* * *

”Hey Fangs,” he says the next day, the girl from before walking the school hallway alone, clinging to her books. “Who is that chick?”

Fangs pauses, turning his head to see where Sweet Pea was looking. “Ethel? What about her?” His eyes narrow. “Don’t give her a hard time Sweet Pea, I actually  _like_  that Northsider.”

“I would never,” he retorts, rolling his eyes as he walks away from Fangs.

       _Ethel_ , he thinks.

             _Okay then_.

* * *

“Hey Ethel!”

Her head jerks up from inside her book, head turning side to side as she looks for whoever was calling her. His deep chuckle snaps her head forward, a cautious expression on her face as she takes him in. He is leaning forward, elbows resting on the table, his leather jacket worn again (Weatherbee was becoming lax again), a smirk on his face.

They are in the library, but there is no one around. She shushes him all the same. He laughs again, a rich sound, and it leaves her a little flustered. She didn’t think he knew her name, didn’t expect him to. And seeing him leaves her on edge. “No one is here except us.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I read.” She looks down at the table, his hands barren of any books. Her gaze flickers up, eyebrows raised. He has the gall to look unashamed. “But I’m here for you.”

Her body locks up, and the warmth leaves her eyes. The change confuses him, the way she cowers for a moment before straightening up, holding her head high. “If you’re here to destroy my social life, don’t worry, I’ve already gone through it before. You really can’t do that much damage.” Her voice is biting and eyes aflame. “But good luck, I’ve survived worse than you.” It is a scornful remark, and for a flickering moment, he comes up with a retort of his own, ready to snarl it at the girl who thinks she could attack him like that. But he can see the little tremble of her lower lip, can see how tightly her hands her clasping the corner of the table, knuckles turning white. And he remembers the first time he needed to defend himself, years before the Serpents became his family. He remembers feeling alone against the world, remembers the way the older kids would taunt him, would push him around. And he remembers how frightened he was, how he had to hide it from the enemy, from the world. How he fought back.

Sweet Pea never thought he’d see a piece of himself in a Northsider, especially not the one before him.

And the retort dies on his lips, the anger inside him quenched.

“Woah, calm down.” He sticks his hands out, open as if in surrender. He softens his voice, hoping to appease her. “I’m here to apologise.”

The steam leaves her, Ethel’s shoulders dropping. “What?”

She is still wary of him, and he doesn’t blame her. He realises how this looks. “Listen, I probably shouldn’t have snapped at you yesterday. But I didn’t know who you were or if I could trust you. And well,” he shrugs, “Northsiders haven’t exactly been the most welcoming people since we got here.” There is a forced airiness in his voice, and he hates how obvious it is. The rest of her wariness slips off her shoulders, eyes brimming with sympathy. “But Fangs seems to like you and thinks you’re cool so I guess you can’t be terrible. So, sorry.”

She tilts her head to the right, Ethel biting her bottom lip. “Umm, thank you.” It sounds like a question but he ploughs on, determined to ask her before he gives up to the cowardice scratching at the cavity inside his chest.

“Also is - is that offer still open?”

Her eyes enlarges, mouth opening and closing a few times. “For help in the musical?” He nods, already bracing himself for rejection. “You want  _my_  help?” He nods again, already preparing to backtrack or laugh it off. “Yeah, okay.”

“Really?” The surprise slips into his tone, and she nods at him, a smile spreading across her face.

“Sure. Just don’t fall in love with me, okay?” She can’t hide the small smile, eyes sparkling as she teases. It doesn’t instil confidence in him and she softens, a more serious expression on her face. “Look, I offered it to you didn’t I? I’ll help you, it’s fine.”

“ ‘kay then.” He seems unsure, but she looks at him so openly and honestly that he finds his lips curling upwards. “Tomorrow morning then?” She nods, cheeks flushing as he continued to watch her, smirking. He winks, teasing her as she buries her head into her book again. "I look forward to it.”

* * *

And with that, their fates were sealed.

* * *

They are allowed to practice in the auditorium before class every morning. Weatherbee seems suspicious of the idea, eyeing Sweet Pea as he leaned against the wall in his office, while Ethel pleads for the chance.

He caves. Ethel is a trusted member of the school, and he had encouraged Sweet Pea to join the play, he knew how it would look to disallow them from practising. Like sabotage.

It’s hard at the beginning, Sweet Pea stumbling through the moves, through the lines. He snaps at Ethel more than once, but she never once storms off, persistent in her promise to help him through it. He apologises eventually and she nods and smiles and get back into the practice. But it deteriorates, Sweet Pea becoming increasingly frustrated at his failure to pick it up immediately, his words more harsh. She flinches at one of his barbs, and he feels disgusting, torn between storming out of the room before he can hurt her further or staying and practising with her.

He ends up doing neither.

“Come here.” He follows her to the piano at the side of the stage, sliding next to her on the piano bench. “I’ll teach you something.” And she quietly, patiently explains the notes to him, what is middle C, different chords and scales.

It feels like the first time he was truly seeing her. She had been sweet and supportive throughout the musical practice, but seeing her behind the piano, the passion and enthusiasm lighting up her face. He is seeing her in her element and its a wonder to behold. She nudges him softly, pulling him from his thoughts, a small smile on her face. She offers to teach him a song.

He laughs at the suggestion.

But she is eager. It is meant to be a distraction; there is no pressure attached to learning the song, no time limit in place for him to perfect it. It is simply a break from the pressures of practice,a method to release any pent up emotions built up during their private rehearsals, a way to show her that he is at the end of his tether.

And the way she describes it, like music was a salvation, a light in the darkness - he finds himself drawn to the idea. “You can’t come here immediately,” she adds as an afterthought. “We do need to learn the musical and I don’t think Weatherbee would be pleased seeing us playing this when we promised to be focussing on that instead.”

He finds himself agreeing to her, reciprocating her smile, wide and bright and full of excitement and hope, with a smaller one of his own.

He doesn’t regret the decision. Not at all.

* * *

They are caught a few days later, an embarrassed Ethel claims it was vocal exercises, helping Sweet Pea find his key for the performance.

Weatherbee nods slowly, a sceptical look in his eye, walking out of the auditorium. It takes a minute for her to be able to breathe again, Sweet Pea’s laughter echoing the chamber. She joins in after a while, giggling until her cheeks ached, a stitch developing in her side.

He throws his arm over her shoulder, Ethel stiffening at the unexpected move before slowly relaxing against him, smile still on her face. “That was incredible,” he laughs. “I don’t know why you didn’t go for a bigger role in this thing.” She blushes at his praise, Ethel ducking her head, changing the topic, reminding him to start practising again.

* * *

And in less than a week Sweet Pea finds that his time alone with Ethel was a sanctuary and one of the better parts of his day. Due, in no little part, to the company. To her sweetness, her softness. Her smile.

* * *

The Serpents still are together, their bond stronger than blood. They don’t separate, not even during lunch. And while they normally have his whole attention, he finds himself distracted by the girl sitting alone on another table, head buried in a book, absentmindedly nibbling on her sandwich.

“Who you staring at?” Toni’s voice snapped him back, Sweet Pea controlling his expression as he turns back to his gang. And there Toni is, eyebrows raised, a smug look on her face. 

He crosses his arms. “No one.”

“Liar,” she bites back with a smile, eyes sparkling in mischief. “But why are you lying to me Sweet Pea. What are you hiding?”

“Nothing Toni. Drop it.” He turns away from her, picking up his lunch, chewing it aggressively. He grunts as she elbows him lightly in the side. “She’s cute,” she singsongs, leaning into him, ribbing him until the tension left his shoulders.

But then she stills.

He follows her line of sight, watches as a boy leans over Ethel, the girl looking back up at him. Her jaw is clenched defiantly, but he can see the hurt shining in her eyes. And Sweet Pea doesn’t even think, doesn’t realise he is standing, ready to approach her, until he feels Toni’s hand on his forearm, holding him back.

He looks down at her confused. There is worry on her face, but she is making no movement to join him. “Don’t worry, Chuck’s there.”

And Sweet Pea looks up, sees that there is already another man standing behind her, arms crossed, an unimpressed look on his face. The distance is too much to catch his words, but the annoyance is visible and enough to have the other boy cowering away. He can only watch as the other student sits beside her,  a comforting hand on her shoulder, more words exchanged before he gets up and leaves her alone.

It shouldn't bother him that she had other friends, other male, good looking friends who would come to her defence. It doesn't.

(only it kinda does)

* * *

“So,” he starts casually during practice the next morning. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

She sputters, completely forgetting that he should be rehearsing one of the group numbers. “What are you taking Sweet Pea?” She looks horrified at the words, a sharp gasp leaving her lips, hands covering her mouth. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

He looks amused at her panic, an eyebrow quirked up as she apologises. “Yesterday at lunch. I saw your boyfriend come up and save you from that prick. You’ve never mentioned him in practice before.” He can hear the hurt in his voice, prays she can’t do the same. Because he had thought they were more than strangers after meeting and practising together. He had told her about Fangs and Toni and his other Serpent friends and he thought she had opened up to him too. But apparently not. And that knowledge stung.

Her frame relaxes the tension it holds, Ethel melting in relief as she realises what he’s referring to. “Oh Chuck, he isn’t my boyfriend.” He can hear the laughter in her voice at the idea, can hear it is coating something else. Something he can’t recognise. “He was just trying to make up for something he did before.”

“What’d he do?”

But she doesn’t answer, not immediately. Her lips are pursed and she she seems caught up in memories. It’s only when he says her name, softly at first, louder later, that she is torn from her thoughts. “It’s nothing Sweet Pea.” But it isn’t, it so obviously is the opposite. Her eyes are haunted, her energy dampened. And it leaves him unsettled.

“Ethel,” he starts lowly, taking steps toward her. Her head tilts as he approached, neck craned upward to meet his gaze. He wants to take her hand, to hold her, to protect her. He doesn’t though. He isn’t sure she would like it. “Ethel, what happened?”

“Have you heard of a sticky maple?” She almost wants to hide at the mention of the word and he can feel his blood bubbling.

“Yes.” It is terse, and he hates this. He doesn’t want to know anymore.

“Well umm, he came up to me in the library one day, I thought he was trying to be my friend but umm,”  she drifts off. “He did it to me.”

“He what?” His voice is deathly quiet. Then, “I’ll kill him.”

“No!”  she exclaims, eyes widening further. “Please don’t do anything.” It’s the first time he can recall her touching him without him first instigating it. She places both hands on his chest, as if to hold him back. And her touch - light and delicate on his chest - it does. He is all bottled rage and burning fury but she looks at him pleadingly and he can’t move, rooted firmly where he stood. “He’s changed now. He’s sorry and he’s different and getting him back is going to help no one.”

“Why are you protecting him?” It’s pushed through gritted teeth, the horrifying thought of her nursing a crush on him on the forefront of his mind.

She looks bewildered at the idea. “I’m not.”

"Then what do you call this?” he snaps. 

“ _I’m protecting you_!” Her explosion takes him by surprise, Sweet Pea faltering, blinking repeatedly in disbelief.

“What?” It is hoarse, raspy and the sound of it has energy seeps out of her shoulder, her voice softening.

“Think about it - even if you do attack him, you’ve instigated a fight. Suspension at best, expulsion at worst.” She looks up at him unblinking, pleading with him silently.

He wants to tell her that he doesn’t care about that, that expulsion would be worth punching Chuck. But he can’t. “I don’t like this,” he says instead, and relief fills her face. “If anything like this happens - you know I’ve got your back, right?” It takes her by surprise, just how serious he is about it. She drops her hand from his chest, fingers burning. He starts walking, Ethel falling in step with him later on, rooted to the spot momentarily in shock.

“Absolutely.”  She nudges him softly, just enough to get his attention. “And ditto. If you ever need me Sweet Pea, I’ll be there. Always.” He looks down at her, Ethel looking up, beaming at him and there is a warmth that blooms inside him. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer to him.

“You know you’re so strong,” he murmurs. “So much stronger than you realise.”

The words send a sharp thrill down her spine, Ethel blushing at his words. “I’m not really,” she mumbles and it causes Sweet Pea to stop, his arm over her shoulder holding her back with him. He bends slightly, both of his hands on her shoulders. The warmth of his touch burns her, and she enjoys the flames licking at her skin, doesn’t want it to end.

It does, far too quickly for her liking, Sweet Pea dropping his hands to his side when she stills. “Don’t give me that crap Ethel. You are.”

“Thank you.” It is barely a whisper, and she looks away, embarrassed at what he may be seeing in her gaze.

“Okay, come on.” He takes her hand, tugging him toward the piano. It startles her, the way he slips her hand into his so easily, the calloused feel of his thumb on the outside of her palm, stroking it softly, subconsciously. She actually stops, Sweet Pea turning around, a flicker of confusion before he brushes it off, his pull more insistent. And she regains control of her legs, a few quick strides to catch up to him. Her heartbeat however, Ethel couldn’t control that, the rapid pounding inside her chest reignited with every brush, his skin rubbing against hers.

She mourns the loss of contact when the arrive at the piano, Sweet Pea letting go and sitting beside her, but they make music together all morning before class. And it touches her more than all the hand-holding in the world.

* * *

This is crazy, he thinks to himself, all the while throwing pebbles at her window. Absolutely insane. But he was there, in front of Ethel’s home, praying that he wouldn’t accidentally awaken her parents or the neighbours. She opens the window, sticking her head outside. “What are you doing?”

“Can I come up?”

She shuts the window.

He almost turns away when he sees her front door unlocking, Ethel standing there wrapped in a robe, hopping from side to side as she ushers him in. The house is as quiet as the dead, the only sound the shuffling of his shoes against the wooden staircase. She leads him to her room without a question, locking the door behind him.

He finds residence in her bed, sitting in the edge as she approaches slowly,  flicking on her lamp. He flinches from the light. "Sweet Pea," she sighs, sitting beside him, lifting his face up, guiding him back to the light. She hisses as she sees what he desperately tried to hide, the skin around his eye swelling, the colour already darkening into a horrible purple.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and he doesn’t know how to interpret the look on her face. “I normally go to Fangs, but he is having his date with Kevin, and the boss has Alice over and Toni is crashing someone else’s couch and -” He runs out of steam, wincing as her fingers brush over the bruise. “I can go if you -”

“No!” It is forceful, and it startles both of them. Ethel recovers first, clearing her throat and bringing her hands back to his neck, tilting his face as she examines the damage. “What happened?"

"The Ghoulies." It is bitter to his ears and her own. Ego wounded, body bruised. “They caught me wandering the Southside alone. I had my knife, but they had more people.” There is a sharp intake of breath from Ethel and he still isn’t sure why he came here, to this Northsider who had probably never been involved in a fight. But that is a lie, because she is more than a Northsider - she is his friend. And he trusts her, even with this. Especially with this.

“Where else did they hit you?” He looks at her, fighting the loose hold she had on his chin to properly look. She seems worried, she seems concerned. She seems determined. 

“Chest.” Her eyes widen. “You wanna see?” He smirks at her reaction, so sure she’d say no. But she doesn’t, instead nodding at him, waiting expectantly for him to pull it off. And he does. It does his ego a world of good to see her so flustered by the sight, Ethel unable to look him in the eye as she pokes at his bruises. “Hey!”

“I don’t think anything is broken,” she murmurs, more to herself. “Just sit here okay.” She doesn’t give him a chance to respond, Ethel slipping off the bed and out the door before he could raise any objections.

He laughs to himself, imagining how her parents would react to a Serpent sitting shirtless on their daughter’s bed.

The door creaks when she returns, a pack of frozen peas in her hands. They don't exchange words, Ethel rummaging through her wardrobe, wrapping it up in a shirt before approaching slowly. She sits beside him, close enough that he can see the specks of gold in her dark eyes, the lamp casting a warm glow on her face. She leans in closer, holding the peas against his face. It cold, freezing, and he has to bite back his reaction. The silence between them stretches, Sweet Pea watching Ethel as she moves the peas around slightly. When she drops it from his face to his chest he can sense how uncomfortable she is. He had never moved his gaze from her face, watching as she meets his eyes, surprised as he lifts his hand to cover hers, pushing the peas more firmly against his side. A hiss escapes him, this bruise more tender. She lasts a few minutes, more than he was expecting, before pulling her and the frozen peas away. She unwraps it, handing him the bag of peas before rolling the clothes into a ball. “I think it’s been wrapped around it enough to be a little cold,” she offers shyly before lifting the cloth to his face. Sure enough, it does cool his face. Sweet Pea uses his shirt to wrap the peas, holding it against his side. She isn’t looking at him anymore, not in the eyes, instead looking just to the left, where the bruise marred his face.

“Ethel,” he calls out softly. She catches his eyes, so many different emotions swirling inside them. It steals her breath away. "Thank you." She feels those two words reverberate in her soul, the guttural voice he used, infused with sincerity, his eyes unblinking, watching her as though she were an angel from on high, in awe and wonder.

"Anytime." Her voice falters. She feels choked up and she can’t explain it to herself, is too afraid to  try. "Seriously Sweet Pea, I’ll always be here for you." He nods against her hand, his breath hot against her wrist. It leaves Ethel feeling lost, overwhelmed by emotion.

She starts to move away when Sweet Pea grabs her wrist, his hand holding her own against his face. She looks surprised, she  _is_ surprised, and she isn’t quite sure what he’s looking for in her. “Why are you so nice to me?” He sounds so lost, so confused with an act of kindness, and she feels her heart lurch at the sound, at the realisation he that he had been conditioned to expect nothing from anybody, not least Northsiders. “I was a bit of a jerk when we met and during the first practice," a huff of laughter leaves her unbidden, and he doesn’t crack a smile, looking at her forlornly. Her hand slips, no longer pressing the cold, damp clothes against his bruise, but the side of his face. And there is a yearning inside of her, that she wouldn’t be in this position because of an attack, a desire that there would be nothing in her hand, that instead she would  be touching his skin, fingers stroking his cheekbone, his jawline, trace the outline of his lips. “Yeah, I was a bit of a jerk for a lot of the practices after that. But you stayed with me, you haven’t really snapped at me, you let me in your house.” His voice is low and urgent and Ethel isn’t sure whether she’s breathing anymore. “I don’t deserve this. You.” He looks at her through his lashes, sorrow spilling from his gaze, and she breaks.

“Don’t.” It is harsh and her other hand rises to the other side of his face, lifting it up. “Don’t you dare say that Sweet Pea. You’re loyal to all your friends, and you’re so dedicated and funny and you gave me a chance when not many people here do.” She takes a shuddering breath, a pause before adding, “if you don’t deserve me, then I don’t deserve you either. Do you hear me?” And she isn’t quite sure what she’s going to do if he says no. He doesn’t say anything, nodding slowly, his gaze never leaving her own, not once. It pierces to the very depths of her soul, and she doesn’t know what he is looking for or whether he could see it inside her. 

"I should go,” he says eventually, making no attempt to do so. The moment, if she could dare to call it that, ends his voice shattering the silence and the bubble that had surrounded them. She drops her hands from his face though she itches to return them, to hold him, to touch him.

"Stay,” she replies. “Just for an hour or so. Get some rest.” He nods at her, lacking the strength to start an argument, let alone see it through. He plucks one of her pillows before dropping it on the floor. “Umm,” she starts. “What are you doing exactly?”

He looks at her as though the answer is obvious. “Going to sleep.”

“You can sleep on the bed. It’s more comfortable and I promise to not attack you while you sleep.” She is teasing and he can’t help the grin in response, picking up the pillow from the ground, dusting it off before placing it back on her bed. “I’ll be back, just make yourself comfortable.” She disappears out the door, the peas in her hand. He toes off his shoes and hangs the wet shirts off the chair in her room, hovering near her window until she returns. The exasperated look she throws his way when she sees him out of bed is enough for him to relax, Sweet Pea waiting for her to settle before crawling into the other side. 

"Tell me a story,” he mutters, melting into her soft mattress, moaning at the feeling.

“Okay.” And Sweet Pea listens to her soft voice, drowning in it, letting it lull him to sleep.

* * *

He wakes up to a sleepy Ethel staring off into nothing, sitting by his laying body, her fingers skimming over his hairline, the motion repetitive and soothing. “What time is it?” he grumbles, reluctant to move from his position.

She stops the touch and he almost asks for her to come back and continue. Almost. Her body twists as she reaches out for her mobile, the soft glow lighting up the room. “Around 6.” He jerks up, a panicked look in his eyes.

“You were supposed to wake me up.” She doesn’t look guilty or repentant, and he is starting to wonder whether his influence has been that good on her, not when she uses it against him.

“It’s Saturday and you needed a good night sleep Sweet Pea, I wasn’t going to kick you out of my room.” She watches as he rushes around the room, picking up his damp shirt and sliding it over his head, Sweet Pea slipping on his shoes. It is only when he is almost ready to leave that she gets up, placing her hand on his forearm, stilling him. “Sweet Pea,” she sighs and god, he can hear how tired she is, can see the bags under her eyes now he actually takes her in. “Please stay.”

He reaches to her, wrapping her up in a hug. His body is shaking, and he clings to her, Ethel his rock, a source of strength in the turbulence he was feeling inside of him. She is stiff in his embrace, but quickly melts into the hug, her hands  winding themselves around his waist. It isn’t possible to bite back the hiss of pain when she tightens her hands around him. He can feel her bury her face in the crook of his neck, can feel the apology against his skin, the warmth of her breath and brush of her lips marking his skin. He can feel a wetness against his neck. A lump forms in his throat, large and uncomfortable and he struggles to swallow his saliva.

He lingers long after he thinks they should separate, the idea of pulling away repulsive. But he does so eventually, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry.” Ethel rubs the base of her palms against her eyes, trying to wipe the stray tears away. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” But the laugh that leaves her is one that doesn’t hide her embarrassment, and she averts her gaze.

Not for long though, Sweet Pea tilting her head back toward him.  He drinks her in, from her red-rimmed eyes to the silvery trail down her cheeks. “I do.” It sounds so soft, a sharp contrast to the loud bruise on his face.  He pulls her back into a hug, his chin resting on top of her head, Sweet Pea blinking back tears of his own, eyes stinging as he fights them back. “Don’t think anyone’s cried over me for a long time.” His voice is distant, and she holds him tighter, fisting his shirt from the back. It is painful, but he can’t bring himself to say anything, not now. Not when he’s afraid she’ll let go forever if he does.

He breaks the hug first, hands gentle on her shoulders as he tries to pull himself away from her strong hold. The first rays of dawn were breaking through, the room lit up, the sky hues of pink and purple. None of them noticed. “You’re too good for me Ethel.” It is a raspy, and he looks like he wants to say more, but he can’t verbalise it, can’t put his feelings into words, isn’t sure the right one’s even exist. His eyes are aflame and she would burn willingly inside them, Ethel unwilling and not wanting to look away.  He presses a gentle kiss on the crown of her head before slipping downstairs and out of the house.

* * *

He takes her heart with him.

* * *

Ethel was the angel of the school; she may have been shy but she was adored by almost all that attended.

There were, however, men who sought to cut off the wings of angels, to enjoy their fall, to watch as they could never fly again.

Sweet Pea hated those guys.

And so, when entering the cafeteria at lunch, when he saw one of them making their way to Ethel, he moved without thinking. He couldn’t punch them, though he were sorely tempted, they hadn’t done a thing yet and Ethel was right, he would face suspension or expulsion if he were to even blink at them threateningly. And so he simply took the seat beside her, sitting backwards, back leaning against the table, arms resting on the table behind him as he throws her a quick greeting.

He turns his head over his shoulder, catching the boy’s eyes, expression cold as his gaze follows his movement past the table without a word to Ethel. It is only then he relaxes. And realises she was talking to him. He looks sheepish as she gives him an unimpressed look. “Sorry,” he offers.

“Sweet Pea,” she sighs. “Did you sit here just to scare people away?” He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to - his expression says it all. Her shoulders fall, an exasperated look on her face. “Are you going to do this with every person who might say something?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind trying.” And the look slips from exasperated to something more fond.

“New table.” They both turn to look at the newcomer, Fangs dropping his tray on the table. “I like it.” He winks at Ethel, throws Sweet Pea a wicked smile, and bites into his sandwich as though it was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Me too.” And there was Toni, sliding in beside Sweet Pea, a teasing smile on her face. “We might have to sit here more often.”

Ethel looks surprised, a few more Serpents and Southsiders joining them at the table, engaged in their own conversations, throwing her a brief nod before turning back to each other.  

They engage her in their conversations, Toni and Fangs, and it leaves Sweet Pea feeling happy, watching his best friends interact so easily with her. “So why are we sitting here now anyway? You guys have been sneaking off together for ages.” It’s an honest question, but it throws them for a loop.

Pink dusts her cheeks and she bites her bottom lip, questioning whether she would have to answer. She looks to Sweet Pea, but he is mum on the topic. “There was a guy -” he scoffs at the description “- and Sweet Pea just came to make sure he wouldn’t bother me. I don’t he planned on moving you here.”

“You came to protect her!” Toni squeals, squeezing his arm tightly. Her smile lights up the room and he rolls his eyes at it. “Oh Sweet Pea who knew you had it in you - a knight in shining armour, here to protect and save his damsel in distress.”

“Alright you guys, cool it.” But there is no annoyance in his voice, a smirk on his face as Ethel’s blush deepens. It’s cute.

“Awww.” It is Fangs that teases them out loud, Toni content making kissy faces at Sweet Pea where Ethel couldn’t see. “You guys would be cute together, ya know.”

He leans back, smirking at she blushes and fumbles through her words and denials.

“What's wrong? You don't like the idea of dating me? Don’t you want to hold my hand? Kiss my in the hallway?" The words are teasing, as is his smile, but she doesn’t respond, Ethel biting her lip and looking down. And suddenly it feels a lot less playful than what it meant. His heart stops for a long moment, insides twisting. There is a earthquake inside of him, a crumbling feeling striking him furiously and he isn’t sure what it means exactly. Only that the idea of her not wanting to date him leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and an ache in his chest, the scars of the destruction only seconds before. Because the idea of those things happening, he wasn’t against it in the slightest.

“I have to go,” she says instead, picking up her bag, abandoning her half-eaten lunch. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And she scurries away, Sweet Pea watching her leave without saying a word, his gaze following her out the door, lingering there long after she disappears through it.

“Way to go genius,” Toni snarks, rolling her eyes. “You pushed her too far too quickly.”

“Oh shut it.” But his words lack the bite he wants to feel. “Why don’t you find your girlfriend.”

“Oh my gosh.” She stands up. “Fangs, get out while you still can. He’s going to be unbearable.” A pause then, “and she’s not my girlfriend.  _Yet_.” And she walks off, looking for Josie and the other Pussycats. Fangs throws him a sympathetic glance, but doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak to him.

Sweet Pea loves him for it, but it leaves him alone with his thoughts and feelings.

And he doesn’t like that at all.

* * *

“I thought we were in here to practice the play?” He is sitting on the stage, his legs swinging back and forth as he watches her sneak in ten minutes late, a guilty smile on her face as she drops her bag by the door. “What type of teacher are you?”

After one swing of his feet, Sweet Pea bracing himself against the stage’s edge, he jumps off, a smirk on his face as she sticks her tongue out at him. “Oh you’re perfect and you know it.”

She stops by the side of the stage, where the piano was and ignoring Sweet Pea hovering near the centre of the stage, she slides onto the bench to the left, his spot beside her left vacant. He fills it. “So, you want to continue practising?”

“Nah,” he replies. “I wanna hear you play something for me. Something fancy.” And so she does, Sweet Pea listening with a smile on his face. “You’re really good at that,” he comments as she continues into something more difficult, Ethel beaming at the compliment. “Who taught you?”

Her smile falls, not completely, but it leaves a twisting feeling inside of him all the same. The music stops. “My dad and I played it together.”

“You don’t have -” The moment she lifts her hand he cuts himself off. He wants to take it inside his own, to comfort her, to support her.

“After he tried to take his life everything changed. I mean, him and mum don’t fight as much anymore, and that’s good. But we had to sell the house and the piano. They got me a keyboard, but I think it just reminds him of what we used to have.” She drifts off, sadness coating her words. He slides closer to her on the bench, a hesitant arm wrapping around her shoulder. Ethel falls against him easily, a shaky breath leaving her.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters after some time, pulling away from him. He feels the cold immediately. “Here I am rattling on about my life. I’m sure you don’t care.”

“I do.” The bewilderment at her assumption causes her to turn to him more completely, and he hates that she still doesn’t believe he would really care for her. “Of course I do.” He nudges her softly, “You’re really something special Ethel.” She blushes. It is the prettiest thing he can remember seeing, the way her cheeks turn a rosy pink, her eyes averting as she tries to bite down her smile. He can see himself leaning forward, a hand cupping the side of her face, his thumb stroking underneath her bottom lip, stilling, tugging her bottom lip from being caught between her teeth. She would freeze, he thinks. She always does whenever he would do something new, would turn and look at him with wide, doe eyes, mouth a little open. It would be so easy to kiss her then, he can see himself moving to kiss her, to capture that lip between his own, to swallow her gasp of surprise, whimper of pleasure.

The vision of it in his mind is strong, strong enough for  him to zone out, Ethel watching him worried as he comes back into reality, blinking a few times, needing to clear the image from his mind. “Are you okay?”

No, he thinks. He isn’t.

He slides off of the piano bench, Ethel watching him lost. “I - I gotta go.” He stumbles backward, quickly grabbing his bag as he continues to back out of the auditorium. “Thanks for the lessons - I couldn’t have done this without you.”

And he leaves her confused and alone.

* * *

The play goes spectacularly, and it leaves Kevin beaming in pride, Fangs by his side. It is a rush of excitement and adrenaline, Toni bouncing in joy, hovering between teasing Sweet Pea about his performance and spending time with the Pussycats. And he is okay with it, basking in  the sense of accomplishment.

He meanders outside, bumping into a few Southsiders, a hand on their back in congratulations. The air is crisp and cold, and he breathes it in deeply, exhaling slowly. The weather is chilly and he tugs his jacket tighter, the leather soft. The crowd of students rush around him, out of the auditorium to meet their parents and friends waiting for them outside. He is alone, but that is okay, he is okay. The high of performing is running through his veins and he looks at the crowds, Northsiders and Southsiders all together, mixed and indistinguishable. He looks up, unable to hide his smile. It’s a beautiful, he thinks, the stars twinkling in the sky, lights in the darkness, illuminating the night.

Toni comes arm-in-arm with Josie, the pair of them laughing in joy, their faces shining like the sun. It fills him with joy to see his friends happy, flourishing in a school where they expected nothing good to come from. Melody and Valerie trail behind them, lost their own little world. Toni’s eyes light up as she sees him, the girl tugging Josie to where he stood. They all talk together, but he can sense the lingering distrust between the other Pussycats and Josie, and he isn’t sure whether it was his place to ask. But it breaks when Josie catches sight of Kevin, waving him over, Fangs stuck on his side. It is an interesting group, singers, gang members and the sheriff’s son.

He is distracted from their conversations though, scanning the crowds for something, a sense of anticipation building up in his chest. And he needs release. It comes in the form of Ethel, the girl rushing toward him.

“You did so wonderfully,” she exclaims, throwing her arms around him, hugging him tight. Sweet Pea stumbles at her force, looking down at her, Ethel’s face buried into his chest. Something inside him clicks into place, his hands wrapping themselves around her. She hugs him and he melts. He wonders what she would do if he kissed her cheek, if he played it off in appreciation and thanks. He wonders whether her breath would quicken, whether her eyes would darken. Whether she’d allow him to kiss her lips as well.

He shakes those thoughts out of his mind for the moment, an easy grin sliding across his lips as he appreciates what he has now, her in his arms, cuddling him. “Hear that Fangs,” he says over her head. “I was wonderful.”

Fangs scoffs but Kevin nods appreciatively, echoing Ethel’s words.

She tries to to pull away at the presence of the others, but his hands tighten instinctively, Sweet Pea having to force himself to let her go.

But he can’t, not really. His hand is over her shoulder, holding her tight against his side, warmth radiating from her, stoking a fire inside of him. The conversation between her and Kevin is animated, Fangs watching lost for a moment before turning to Sweet Pea, the pair of them teasing each other about their roles, Fangs more congratulatory and honest. They both steal glances at the Northsiders near them, Ethel hovering close by Sweet Pea, leaning into him without realising, rosy cheeks and bright eyes and a smile that could take his breath away.

Fangs does eventually notice his distraction, a teasing smile on his lips as he wriggles his eyebrows at Sweet Pea. He gets a gentle push in reply, an embarrassed look on Sweet Pea’s face. But he shows no sign of interrupting her conversation with Kevin and so Fangs, rolling his eyes, steals back the attention of his boyfriend from Ethel, leaving her to turn to Sweet Pea, gushing about his performance in the play again. He preens at her words, lavishing his own compliments upon her, thanking her for the assistance she provided him. There is a bittersweet tone as he comments they no longer need to meet every day for practice, and her eyes dim. Or at least he thinks they did - he is fearful he may be projecting his feelings on her, is afraid she doesn’t really care. Silence envelopes them after that, and he isn’t sure how to develop their friendship now the play was no longer holding her to him.

They had never discussed anything like that, and it’s a crushing realisation that she may not want there to be anything more. Before he can mention it, she is distracted by something over his shoulder, Ethel on her toes, craning her head to seek confirmation of what she had thought she had gotten a glimpse of.

“Oh!” She lights up. “I see Chuck.” The words are like a knife to his heart, and she tears off a piece of him as she pulls away. He catches sight of the guy near the other wrestling students, Toni and Josie giving him hugs and talking. He blinks and looks around - the other Pussycats had disappeared as well and he had missed it entirely. He watches as they wave goodbye to him, the girls walking in different directions - Josie to her mother, Toni back toward the group.

But as one returns, one leaves.

He doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t try to keep her with him. He can’t. She is like sand through his fingers, and he realises that he can’t hold her to him. He isn’t sure whether he could hold her at all. Ethel doesn’t move that far, only a few yards to where Chuck has wandered away from his wrestling friends. He can’t turn away from the sight, even when they try and engage him in conversation, even when it eats himself up inside to watch it. And he does.

Watches as they hug, as they laugh and talk. Watches as Chuck slings his arm over her shoulder and they walk away toward the carpark.

“Crap,” he mutters, Toni sidling up next to him, watching the retreating figure of Ethel and Chuck. “I like her don’t I?”

“And the penny drops,” she sighs. She wraps her hand around his waist, the pair of them saying goodbye to Fangs and Kevin before walking away from the front area of the school, dragging their feet to their motorbikes. “If it means anything, she totally is into you too.”

He steals a quick look at her, before looking up at the sky, watching as dark clouds roll in, a slow exhale leaving him. “I don’t think so Toni, I don’t even know if she’ll still talk to me after this.”

His words still her, Toni tugging him back to her as he continues to walk forward. “Tell her how you feel Sweet Pea.” He rolls his eyes, grunting in disagreement. “Tell her or you’ll regret it. I’ve seen you two together, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy or carefree. God Sweet Pea, you’re not even like that in the Southside.” The more words that are spoken, the more his walls are built up, the aggravation and annoyance shuttering him from the earnestness of her words. He looks at the sky. The clouds roll in faster now, and the stars that he had admired earlier, all but gone. The sound of thunder echoes, an ominous warning for the storm that was approaching.

“I don’t think so Topaz.” And what tears at her soul  isn’t his words, it is the resignation and defeat in his tone, the hopelessness on his face, the facade of listlessness crumbling without ever fully being built. He had given up without ever even trying.

“Look at me,” she asks, she pleads. To nothing but air.

Sweet Pea had turned and left.

* * *

The Whyte Wyrm is bustling late at night, Toni working the counter. “Can I have something?” She scoffs at his voice, at the suggestion.

“Please, I like my job here.”

“ _Toni_ ,” he groans. “For me.”

She raises an eyebrow unimpressed. “Don’t give me those puppy eyes. You wouldn’t be so miserable if you just manned up and told Ethel how you feel.” He groans at her words, head falling into his arms, resting on the bar.

“I can’t Toni, you know that.” It comes out muffled, Sweet Pea flinching, head jerking up at she hits the tops of it.

“Yes you can. At least you know the girl you like actually likes you back.” There is a sadness in her voice, memories of Josie and Reggie close and flirting fluttering to the forefront of his mind.

“Oh crap Toni. I didn’t even think - are you sure?”

She offers him a tight smile. “I saw her and Reggie making out right before maths, so I’m pretty sure.” She sighs, the cracks of her facade showing, his heart lurching in response. But she hides it well, turning it back to him. “You - grow a pair and ask her out.” His head drops back down, Sweet Pea grumbling at the suggestion. Toni rolls her eyes at his antics, stealing a glance at the door when it swings open. She whistles, low and long. “Well, since you don’t want to do something, seems like your girlfriend’s doing it instead.”

He lifts his head and turns in his seat, eyes finding Ethel immediately. And he is jaw slacken, the girl dressed in a short dark green dress, with fishnets and boots. She had walked right from his fantasies and into real life and honestly, could he be blamed for dazing out. She makes her way slowly toward him, shyly navigating her way through the crowd until she was right in front of him.

“Damn girl you look fine.” Toni’s voice snaps her attention away from Sweet Pea, a smile spreading across her lips as she sees the genuineness of Toni, the appreciative look in her eye. “If you ever want to leave that Serpent for this one...” She ends the sentence with a wink, a blush spreading across Ethel’s face. “I mean, girls  _do_  have more fun.”

“Okay Toni,” he grunts. “That’s enough.” She harrumphs in annoyance, but she does walk away from them, going to serve some of the other Serpents. She leaves Sweet Pea and Ethel alone. The nervous ticks come back, he sees, the wringing of her fingers, Ethel tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “What are you doing?” he hisses. “What are you doing here? And in  _that_?” He’s afraid to look over her again, afraid he’ll show more than what he should.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she says evenly. “Thought maybe I should try and blend in.”

“You came here - to talk to  _me_? Instead of the place we both go every week day?”  There is scepticism and disbelief mixed in his voice, but her gaze doesn’t falter.

“Please,” she scoffs. “It’s not as if you’re easy to catch at school.” The level of attitude in her voice sends a surge of pride through him, Sweet Pea stemming down the smirk itching to cross his lips.

“We can do this later then.”

“No,” she snaps. “You’ve been ignoring me for weeks. Now.” He groans, taking her hand into his as he slides off his bar stool, tugging her to the exit.

“Go get her tiger.”  Toni’s voice echoes as he leads Ethel out the door. Her laugh follows it as he sticks his hand out behind him, middle finger displayed.

He turns the corner, Ethel jogging to keep up, lost as Sweet Pea navigates his way through the trailers until he reaches the outskirts of the land, a quiet area with no eyes watching. She turns to face him, eyes dropping to their hands, still touching. It is as though drawing attention to it burns him, Sweet Pea dropping her hand immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Okay, you have me now. What did you want?” It comes out as harsh, and he almost apologises, instead biting his tongue and waiting for her to talk.

“I just want to know why you are avoiding me? What did I do to you?”

“Nothing.” There is confusion in his voice, brows furrowing as he tries to understand where she was going with this conversation.

“Then why won’t you talk to me anymore!” she exclaims, pausing to recollect herself. She looks up at him earnestly, desperate for the truth. “I’ve been wracking my brains trying to figure out what I did that has made you like this, and I can’t think of it.” Still he says nothing. He can barely process what she is saying. “I’m sorry Sweet Pea, whatever I did I’m so, so sorry. But you have to tell me what did I do wrong,” her voice cracks. “Because I can’t fix this if I don’t know what I did wrong.” 

That’s all that he needs for his resolution to break. It’s instinctual, his hands finding the sides of her face, Sweet Pea taking a step towards her, leaning down, kissing her. He doesn’t mean to show her everything, but it flows from him, his hand sliding from the side of her face and into her hair, fingers running through the curls that had tempted him for so long. He tilts her head up toward him, drinking her in as he continues to kiss her, tilting his head toward the left, his nose pressing into the softness of her cheek. She tastes like strawberries. Strawberries and sweetness and everything he didn’t realise he needed until it was right there, in his hands. Kissing him back. Faintly he is aware of her hands sliding up his torso, arms winding their way around his neck. He struggles to control the groan at the back of his throat, more determined on seeing which sounds he could elicit from her. She is just as responsive vocally as he imagined, soft whimpers and mewls as he deepens the kiss, tongue running against the seams of her lips, encouraging her to open up to him. She follows him without hesitation. Sweet Pea loses himself in her, pulling her flush against his body, and he breathes her in until she is all he can feel, all he can taste, all he can think of. She’s infected him, in his bloodstream, coursing around his body, and he would imagine no greater high. And there is no better sound that his name moaned against his lips, her voice thick with want, her hands around his neck, pulling him further down so she could kiss him more easily. And she does, her mouth open to him, his tongue licking into her mouth, sweeping inside and teasing her until she was a wreck, a hand sliding up into his hair, fingers curling around his short locks, tugging it as his own hands find a sensitive spot on her sides.

She may have been a wreck, but he was no better. All he wanted to a wall to push her against, to touch and taste her, to know every sound and reaction he could draw out from her.

But then Toni’s voice is in his mind, her insistence that they  _talk_  ringing in his ears.

He pulls away reluctantly, resting his forehead on her own. His eyes are closed, afraid to see the confusion and disgust swirling in her eyes. Because while she may be attracted to him, that was no promise she would like him, like him enough to continue their friendship, like him enough to date him, to take him home to the family. To introduce him to them, to the whole world, as her boyfriend. “That’s why Ethel,” he grounds out, chest still heaving, Sweet Pea struggling to catch his breath. “Because every time I’m with you I want to kiss you, I want to make you smile and laugh and hold your hand and kiss you and protect you and all that corny crap.” Her breath hitches, a shaky watery exhale leaving her mouth, the warmth touching his lips, a tingle sparking at the feeling. “But I’m not stupid. I know what you Northsiders think of us. You might be okay helping me out for the play but it is over now, I don’t think you’re going to be so willing to be seen with me. So yeah, maybe I’ve been avoiding you. But it’s just better, okay? For both of us.”

It’s a small mercy she hadn’t pulled away yet. He didn’t know how she would react if he couldn’t bask in her warmth for that moment. He’d be cold, empty. And he didn’t think he could handle, not immediately after he rubbed himself raw with vulnerability. He needed a moment. He needed her.

“Is that what you really think of me?” There is hurt in her voice, undisguised by the roughness of it. “Would I have come here if I didn’t care about you? Have I ever made you feel like I didn’t Sweet Pea?” At his lack of response she pushes forward. “Was I really that terrible at showing just how much you mean to me? I’m sorry then. Because that is the last thing I would want.” Her voice was husky and laboured and the sound sends lust spiking through him.

“What - what are you saying?” His voice is hoarse and hope blooms inside his chest. He opens his eyes, watching as she looks at him through hooded lids, lips swollen and red and smiling.

“I want you too.” One of her hands had slipped from his neck to his chest, Ethel staring at it instead, the lightness of her skin a sharp contrast to the black tee he was wearing. She can feel the heat emanating from him, can feel his heartbeat underneath her palm. “But I’m not blind you know. I’ve seen how the girls all look at you because, well.” she gestures her hand up and down his body. ” Have you seen yourself? You could have any girl you wanted, Northside or Southside. Why would you want me? I’m not exactly what boys consider ‘sexy’.”

He steals another kiss, though, it couldn’t be considered stealing as it was so freely given. He allows his hands to wander, not able - not willing - to restrain himself. She squeaks in surprise, and he reins himself in. “I want you,” he whispers against her lips. “Just you. Only you.” He nips her bottom lip. “Every single inch of you.”

“But-” He cuts her off again, pressing their lips together, content not taking it any further. She smiles against his lips and he thinks that maybe, that was her intention the whole time.

“What do I need to do to convince you?” It’s whispered against her lips, and she smiles at the question.

“This is good.”

He runs his nose up and down the slope of her own, taking a second to press a kiss against the point. “Really?” he murmurs softly, enjoying her closeness.

She hums in agreement. “But many times, just in case I forget.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“Good,” she manages, still breathless. It is only then he notices the faint blush on her cheeks. Still so innocent, he thinks. 

“So,” he drags out teasingly. “Any chance of seeing this outfit on you again.” He makes a show of checking her out, allowing his gaze to trail up and down her slowly, allowing himself to enjoy every inch of her before him. She laughs, so open and pure, and he falls in love with her again. “Because this is really something else.” His voice pitches low and, oh, her eyes, he can see them darken, can see the side of her neck, her pulse fluttering away rapidly. 

But then her eyes sparkle and she leans forward. He thinks she may be going in for a kiss, but she is aiming to low, her lips skimming across his jawline. His hands find her waist, holding her close as he tries to even out his breathing. She tugs him down as she whispers in his ear, “I think it’s what is underneath that’s more important here.”

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [raptorlily](https://tmblr.co/mm-t84y6jfS0Zvd4He1YD5w) 's [post on tumblr](https://raptorlily.tumblr.com/post/171646254430/i-know-yall-are-into-sweetv-and-sweetreader-and). 
> 
> ... speaking of tumblr, come say hi to me on [mine](https://roastytoastyprincesss.tumblr.com).


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